Love, John

Hey Mom and Dad, Paul, and Barry.
I write from an internet Cafè in Iquitos, the world's largest city whose only access to the "outside" is the river and air. It is incredible to consider that everything came by boat or plane.

The trip was truly incredible. Let me try to outline it for you, although I think it may be difficult to delineate the days because of the lazy and obtuse nature of the journey.

Day 1-2. Monday-Tuesday. We pack up and leave Km. 38 for Pucallpa. In peru, it is highly advisable to get to the launch 6 hours early (dad might just love it here?). You then have a good chance to chose a good hammock spot, before the myriad of mothers, children, fathers, cows, pigs, chickens, and giant bundles of plàtino arrive. We accordingly arrived at about 10:00 A.M. to hang our hammocks.

Multiple considerations come to bear when choosing your hammock spot. Not to close to the bathrooms (they stink), not to far away from the bathrooms (you have to crawl under hammocks, over plàtino, and into various oddities before releiving your need). Not to close to the lights, (they frequently leave them on all night), avoid speakers at all costs (they blare music all night). Get close to the windows. Face away from the TV, infamous for endlessly showing gratuitously violent films, or music videos of boring, explicit, and undadulterated love making.

Once we had puzzled through where to hang our hammocks, we took shifts of leave, always leaving someone at the boat to watch the gear, while the others made last minute preperations for the trip (e.g. buy a bag of Soda crackers, extra water, eat one more Menù, go to C`est Si Bon for one more icecream, email home one last time).

The original plan for the trip had been to take the whole group. Dr. Matthews (fondly known as Doctòr), Jenni, Karen, Anthony, Ansley, Jackson, Alex, Ryan, and myself. As the date of preperation neared, we found, to our consternation, that Dr. Matthews had to attend examinations in Lima, and so was unable to come. Jenni was sick, we didn't know if she would make it. Karen and Anthony had to leave for Lima the next Monday on a bus, and weren't sure the timing would work.

And so we found ourselves, in a state of instability, compounded by the fact that the boat, which was advertised to leave at 5:00 P.M. this Sunday, did not leave that night, nor the next day, and only at 10:30 P.M . the next night. The problem, as it appeared to me, was that a truck bearing cargo for the launch was delayed, and the launch master, unwilling to leave the cargo, opted rather to wait, at some expense of the passengers. Ansley and Alex decried my interpretation, and proceeded to tell a darker story, (which I think was probably more accurate). "Not satisfied", they said, "to leave with such a paltry assortment of passengers and cargos (the launch was crammed), the master, or captain, had decided to wait until his craft was more amply supplied, at the considerable mercy of the passengers". To Ansley and Alex, forgive the paraphrase, I don't know exactly how you phrased it.

Whatever the case, we eventually found ourselves leaving approximately 34 hours after our intended departure. Jenni, who had stuck with us for the entire period of waiting eventually considered she was too sick to go along. Anthony and Karen also jumped ship (2 hours before departure), on the impression that they would not have enough time to get back for the bus on monday. Consequently, Ansley found herself (as I fear she often does), in the midst of 4 boys, heading for a place we didn't know, on a big, endlessly moving, river.

Day 3. Wednesday. I woke up in my hammock surrounded by strangeness--- bumped into Ryan (lying in his hammock in close proximity to myself), was startled from my sleepy fog by the vigorous banging of the cook's metal spoon, on the cook's metal pot. This, then, was the signal for breakfast. My back hurt, and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke played and sizzled in my nose. Time for me to get used to life on a launch.

Spent the day, as I would spend most days on the launch, alternatively reading, gazing at the passing scenery from the freedom of the deck, or sleeping in my hammock.

We arrived at our destination that evening, a little town on the river named Inahuaya. Carrying our baggage, we walked down the plank connecting us with the boat and the river bank, the eyes of silent and listless passengers following us all the way.

Checked into a small hostel, made the aquaintance of our supossed guide (a sprightly fellow named "Caiman"), and went out to find food. Took a refreshing shower from a barrel (using a pitcher), the water was river water, disgustingly brown. Caiman seems to have high hopes for the following day, I sleep in restless anticipation.

Day 4. Thursday. The adventures of today surpassed all adventures of the trip. We were headed for Hot Springs, to be reached by a "Chalupa", or as we might say in Maine, an aluminum skiff powered by 40 horses.

We boarded the skiff with 3 others, the boat guide, a man named Julio Navarra, and a friend of a man by the name of Walter. Permit me an excursus.

The boat guide: typical Peruvian build, slight, but quite apparently very strong indeed.
Julio Navarra: A fellow with interesting history. Knew Dr. Matthews and Jenni quite well. Had nearly been baptised as an Adventist, but was dissuaded or unpermitted for some unknown reason. Had run for the political position of Alcalde (Governor or Mayor) of his town or district and lost. Seemed to be of sufficiently ample financial means, but appeared to live in a tavern.
Friend of Walter: Jackson had worked with Walter before we arrived, but had not known where he lived. We encountered him here in Inahuaya and enjoyed his company over the next several days. He intended to come with us on the chalupa, but at the moment of departure had vanished, leaving us to wonder, as we sped down the river. His friend, had not departed, and we were fated to spend the day with him, who seemed to be altogether a nice fellow.

We headed down the river, taking about an hour to arrive at a little town downriver from Inahuaya. From there, we hiked over some steep hills to arrive at the hot springs, which proved to be some of the most amazing I have ever seen.

Apparently, the water was heated by some sort of volcanic action beneath the earth, and seeped out in various places in a small river. Seepage was sufficient enough that at one spot we absolutely could not immerse ourselves. Julio took us further upstream to a place where a cooler stream flowed in, and here, we were finally were able to relax in the hot stream. The idea was strange enough, it was hot enough outside, but somehow the hot water was enjoyable, and we soaked, explored, and jumped off waterfalls. It was, quite frankly, incredible.

We left there at about 2:00 P.M. for our chalupa. Once arrived, the motor wouldn't start, despite the concerted efforts of Julio, our Boat guide, Jackson, and myself, the most effort by far being expended by Julio and the Boat guide. Nothing worked. It rained, with the savage tempetuosity so familiar to the jungle. Finally, at about 4:00, we got a peki-peki, a long canoe strangely equipped with even stranger motor. (See previous blog). We loaded the Chalupa on top of the peki-peki, and set off for Inahuaya, this time against the current, and with a very heavily laden, small-motored boat.

The next 4 hours were terrible. The rain soaked us, the wind chilled us, and the warm Peruvian sun went to bed. Jackson and I sat enthroned on the Chalupa, which sat precariously on top of the Peki-peki. I at least had my raincoat, (not to mention a synthetic t-shirt), but jackson was clad in a green cotton t-shirt and boardshorts. Needless to say, we were all very, very, cold. Jackson and I, shaking uncontrollably, opted to lye down on the floor of the chalupa and cuddle. I am not ashamed of the fact, because I know it gave us each vital warmth that could be obtained in no other way.

Finally, arriving in Inahuaya, we ran back to our rooms, and changed into warm, dry, clothes.

Day 5: Friday.
Alex, Ryan, and I spent this day waiting at the port for a launch to take us on to Iquitos. Jackson and Ansley, already aquainted with the place, opted to wait in Inahuaya over the weekend before heading back to Pucallpa by launch. Jackson and Ansley were with us almost all day, companiably swatting the mosquitos that had launched an all-out attack. Around 5:00 P.M., they assumed the launch would not come before sabbath, and although they said their adieus before going back to the hostel, we all expected to spend the weekend there before leaving to our respective destinations. Around 5:30, the launch appeared around the bend in the river, and we were able to board, pay our tickets, and set up our hammocks before the arrival of the Sabbath.

Days 6-7: Sabbath-Sunday. We spent these days restfully floating down the river. Because this is "Semana Santa", (the week observed over the day of passover), not many people were on this second launch, which proved to be a real blessing. We had room to stretch out and meander about. On our same boat, were the first Gringos we had encountered in our journeyings. Suitably eclectic, they brought color and humor to our lives. A social worker from Spain (he had a closely shaven head with dreadlocks hanging down the back), a cabinent maker from Canada, and two social workers from the Netherlands.

We arrived in Iquitos the same day of my writing, that is, Sunday evening, at about 6:00 P.M. We are checked into a nice hostel, which should house us until we intend to fly back to Pucallpa.

Forgive the extraordinary length of this epistle, there was a lot to tell.

Love, John